Wednesday, March 26, 2008

From the flyer:“USA vs Al-Arian” is a disturbing film on freedom of speech in post 9/11 America and political persecution. The film follows the arrest and trial of Sami Al-Arian, an Arab-American university professor accused of supporting a terrorist organization abroad. For two and a half years Dr. Al-Arian was held in solitary confinement, denied basic privileges and given limited access to his attorneys. The film is an intimate family portrait documenting how a tight-knit family unravels before our very eyes as trial preparations, strategy and media spin consume their lives. Norwegian director Line Halvorsen has made a damning portrait of the case focusing on the trial’s emotional toll. This is a nightmare come to life, as a man is prosecuted for his beliefs rather than his actions.

The Screening will be followed by a talk with Laila Al-Arian, New York based journalist and Dr. Al-Arian’s daughter.

Co-sponsored by the NYU National Lawyers Guild, Law Students for Human Rights, MELSA, and the Islamic Law Students Association

What do we know about Dante Lazarescu? Miki and Sandu, his next-door neighbors, would be happy to provide a detailed list of his odious habits: sloth; overindulgence in alcohol, tobacco and medication; lack of hygiene. Another vice they might mention is Lazarescu’s preoccupation with his cats, which is repeatedly criticized and trivialized. When we are first introduced to Lazarescu, even as his own body is on the verge of collapse, Lazarescu does not fail to ask his cats how they are doing. His neighbors, however, repeatedly encourage Lazarescu to get rid of the cats. They are described as filthy and disease ridden; they consume without producing. As Sandu says to one cat: “You’re nice and cozy now that you’ve found a fool.” Lazarescu counters these accusations innocently, describing his cats as undemanding: “all they need are some bones and maybe some fish to eat.”

Lazarescu doesn’t require much sustenance either. As an elderly, unhealthy man with few resources, however, he is also consuming without producing: a non-contributing member of society. He is a retired engineer from the age of Romanian Communism, a relic. His social utility has long expired and, like his cats, Lazarescu’s estimated valued worth is measured in utils in the film’s loveless world. He is inconsequential: a man as useless as the cats he is urged to discard. Why, then, do we care for Dante Lazarescu? We care for the very reasons that those around him criticize, marginalize and even punish him. In one instance, when asked “How do you feel?” Lazarescu answers: “Do you know how much I love my cats?” and he does, just by virtue of their existence. Lazarescu thus embodies the same moral principle that is so noticeably missing from the world around him: Unconditional Love. His capacity for love is neither a redemptive quality nor a personal characteristic. It is, rather, a symbolic essence that is embedded in him without any logical justification. As Puiu says, “If we split human beings into a human part and a spiritual part, [Lazarescu] is the human part, the part that dies. He's secondary.” The primary element is not Lazarescu himself, but the love he embodies. He is its object, just as he is the object of others’ neglect and misconduct.

As we watch Dante Lazarescu’s descent, we intuitively judge the involved parties’ level of responsibility for his suffering and neglect. When Mioara warns Lazarescu against causing trouble at Spitalui Universitar, he asks: “Isn’t it the doctor’s duty to take care of the patient?” The ambulance driver responds by asking him “And what is the patient’s duty?” Here, as in the film as a whole, the attention to Lazarescu’s duty inevitably causes an inattention to his rights. The question of Lazarescu’s remains noticeably implicit in the film. The only occasion that touches upon Lazarescu’s legal rights is the surgeon’s refusal to operate on Lazarescu because he has not given his consent. What should be Lazarescu’s right to informed consent becomes his duty, a duty that he is unable to perform. If it is the doctors’ duty to care for patients, throughout the film we see them putting in the minimal amount of effort possible toward its fulfillment. The gross violation here is thus not of a professional medical duty, but of a basic human one. Puiu seems to be encouraging us to examine and define the moral duty of a human being. The language of human rights discourse provides a viable answer: the inherent dignity of a human person demands that the equal and inalienable rights of all people be respected and preserved. If a human being has an inherent right to dignity just by virtue of his/her existence, is it our moral duty to ensure that this right is respected?

In order to answer this question we must reassess the justification for the moral imperative to respect human rights. Puiu’s answer is simple: the only justification needed is Unconditional Love, the love that is the essence of the spiritual side of man embodied in the Christ-like Lazarescu. Like Christ, Lazarescu symbolizes Unconditional Love and like Christ he is a victim of the human collective. Lazarescu also reminds us, however, that unlike his namesake, Lazarus, there will be no Messiah to bring him back from the dead. Even the film’s title assures us that there will be no deus ex machina to save Lazarescu. Indeed, at the end of the film, Dr. Angel is called but never appears. In a world where religious belief has no place in society’s moral compass, it would hardly be reasonable to expect miraculous salvation.

There seems to be a missing link between the morality of human rights and the Christian idea of Unconditional Love expressed in this film. When we attempt to provide logical justification for the moral imperative reflected in Puiu’s notion of Unconditional Love we fall short. Without any religious ground for fulfilling our moral duty to uphold human rights standards, the concept of inherent dignity becomes questionable. Puiu has said: "We forget we are animals…I'd like to create situations that show the animal face of the human being."[1] It seems that Lazarescu had accepted this duality all along. When Sandu asks: “Why don’t you get rid of these cats?” Lazarescu responds: “Why don’t you get rid of Miki?” By the end of the film, Lazarescu and his cats stand on equal ground: bodies, animalistic. Lazarescu’s capacity for love, however, tells a different story. He knows that the love he shows for his cats cannot be reciprocated[2], yet he never ceases to impart it.

It seems that the consistent truth of the film is that it is the capacity for love that a person innately possesses that cements human dignity. Lazarescu’s dignity remains intact: his inalienable right. If we seek to secularize this love for the sake of a stable justification for human rights morality, there is no guarantee that it will maintain its foundation. We must ask, however, if there is a need, after all, to define a moral foundation in order to establish the practice of kindness. As Dante Lazarescu shows us, love will still exist no matter how we define it. It doesn’t need much sustenance.

Wednesday, March 5, 2008

At around the six-minute mark, with the increasing hysteria of Amina Masood’s screams, Missing in Pakistan finally progresses from a thoughtful but not-entirely riveting narrative to an extremely gripping – and disturbing - documentary about the spate of ‘disappearances’ in Pakistan.[1]

Amina’s panic arises as she realizes that her 16 year old son has been arrested by the police – and stripped of his trousers before being pushed into the police van. The site of his arrest, and its cause, is a peaceful protest organized by Amina to protest the disappearance of her husband. Ahmed Masood Janjua, was last seen by his family on July 30, 2005. Since then, Amina has received information through informal channels that her husband is in custody of the police, but no official is willing to confirm this, let alone provide her with a reason.

Janjua is one among several hundred Pakistanis who have gone missing since the launch of the ‘war on terror’. Evidence suggests that the missing have been abducted and detained in secret locations on the orders of the Pakistan government, which is one of America's allies in the War on Terror. It is reported that several have been transferred to America's custody as well.

The Musharraf government claims that it is only apprehending terrorists, but has failed to provide evidence linking several of the missing to terrorism; neither has it brought them before Pakistan courts.[2] Some of the missing, like Janjua, are members of groups like the Tablighi Jamaat, described as “a global Islamic proselytizing movement with one of the largest numbers of followers in the world.” It has been suggested that such religion-based groups may be recruiting grounds for terrorists, but there is no evidence establishing this particular group’s link to terrorists or terrorist activity.[3]

There is increasing bitterness in Pakistan at the government’s blind allegiance to American foreign policy at the cost of serious threat to the rule of law in Pakistan. “Do countries sell their own people?” screams one poster. It is an open secret that President Musharraf, who seized control of the government via a military coup in 1999, has been able to prolong his dictatorship due to backing from the western world, particularly the Bush government. BBC’s Zafar Abbas notes that as an active partner in the war on terror, Musharraf has been perceived by many in the West as one of the most liberal and enlightened faces of the Muslim world. Swayed by the exigencies of the war on terror, the American government has been able to overlook the suspension of due process in Pakistan, even as it goes about bringing “democracy, the rule of law and respect for human rights” to other Islamic nations.

The 24 minute documentary brings out the very thin line between acts of terrorism and those sometimes perpetrated in the name of counter-terrorism, it addresses the terror v. torture debate discussed in the post on the Battle of Algiers, it raises questions about the extent to which a state allows its internal governance to be overridden by its obligations to other states and it provides an insight into the ‘conditional aid’ policies that governments of the North can use to arm-twist governments of the South. It also alludes to the ease with which values of democracy and rule of law can be co-opted or ignored. And of course, most significantly, it brings to public notice, several cases of disappearances in Pakistan and splices together the response from different communities of interest – the families of the missing, the government, the human rights fraternity and the lawyers.

This blog reports that the documentary has been circulating through informal channels as its content is too explosive for broadcast networks in Pakistan. It suggests that while there is a producer mentioned in the credits, there are doubts as to whether the person’s real name has been used. Other sites however indicate that Zafar is an independent journalist and film-maker. The documentary is freely available on Google video and on Youtube. Do watch.

[1] This is not to say that first five minutes were superfluous – in a second viewing I noticed details I had missed while settling down in the first; it is more a compliment to the film’s ability to shake even the over-exposed or desensitized (to documentaries, or the issues they cover) out of their passivity.